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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23942206">i'm surrounded by idiots (but my friends are alright)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/coruscatingcatastrophe/pseuds/coruscatingcatastrophe'>coruscatingcatastrophe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i don't want to wait 'til the next life [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Percy Jackson and the Olympians &amp; Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Character Development, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Self-Acceptance, a dash of angst, and a family that loves him, at least some humor is what i was going for, can i just say that mateo was incredibly fun to write, i will never love another oc as much as him, just let the boy have his nintendo 3ds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:14:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,891</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23942206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/coruscatingcatastrophe/pseuds/coruscatingcatastrophe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He and Elliot are a pretty good team, Mateo thinks. There are two of them. Two is enough to fight off the hoards of monsters that try to steal their backpacks. Two is enough to slip under the radar of people who would probably call social services if they figured out they were homeless. Two is enough so that neither of them ever gets lonely. </p><p>Really. Mateo cannot emphasize that enough. Two is enough. </p><p>“Man, I can’t believe we just almost died. Because of cyclopes. You know what cyclopes are, right? Cyclopes are—” </p><p>“Yes, I know,” he says tiredly. Seriously, the headache never ends. “The things we just fought. One eye. Smells like my oldest brother Luis’s laundry hamper.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>background Nico di Angelo/Percy Jackson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i don't want to wait 'til the next life [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725805</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i'm surrounded by idiots (but my friends are alright)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i have about a thousand other things i should have been writing, and instead i dedicated a whole 10k to an oc. sounds like me. </p><p>anyway, this was incredibly fun to write. if you guys are here from press restart (which i'm assuming you probably are, because why else would you be reading a one-shot about an oc you otherwise wouldn't care about?) then i hope you'll enjoy reading this bonus story as much as i did writing it :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>The night Mateo Diaz runs away is the same night that he speaks to his parents for the last time. And the last words his parents say to him are this: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If you cannot be the son that we have raised you to be, then you are no longer our son.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Normally, hearing them say something like that would have had him immediately apologizing and begging for forgiveness. Not that Mateo is one to beg. He isn’t. Still, there’s something about having your parents look at you like you’re the worst kind of person, like you’re something </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span> . . . that can really make you do things you wouldn’t, otherwise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s why he’d apologized for kissing Ethan Whitman last year after the homecoming game, even though he really wasn’t sorry. It’s why he’s taken every sideways comment they’ve made without batting an eye, even if every bad word they say about certain types of people—</span>
  <em>
    <span>people like him</span>
  </em>
  <span>—prick him like invisible paper cuts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><em>People like him. </em>He can’t even say it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, he runs away. Not really because of the weird creatures he’s been seeing out of the corners of his eyes for weeks, now. Not because for a minute in his English class, he could have sworn the cheerleader who sits in the row in front of him’s hair had turned into fire. Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>caught </span>
  </em>
  <span>on fire. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Turned into fire</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s whatever. Mateo’s always suspected that there was something not-quite-right about him. And he always sort of knew that eventually, his family was going to figure that out too. He doesn’t bother saying goodbye to any of his siblings because he knows whose side they’d be on. Well, except for Rosalina—but Rosie is different. She’s the baby. Five years old. She’s too young to be caught up in her family’s drama, and it’s not her fault that her favorite brother’s kicking himself out the door before their parents can have the honors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All he takes with him are two fresh sets of clothes, his Nike water bottle, a box of protein bars and a knife that he stole from the kitchen, all of the birthday and Christmas money he’s saved up since he was nine, and his Nintendo 3DS. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s beginning to think bringing the DS was a mistake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t even play <em>MarioKart</em>!” he shouts four days into being on his own, looking on in dismay when the couple of weird-looking somethings that stole his backpack locate it, passing it back and forth like they’re trying to figure out what it is. “Come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span>, jerkholes. That’s the only valuable item I have to my name!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The one holding the DS, evidently finding no value in it, tosses it over its shoulder. Into the creek. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some days, Mateo really hates his life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He keeps waiting for the day when someone will jump out from behind the tree and shout, “HA! Punk’d ya! Now here’s your </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>life.” And then they’ll hand him a briefcase filled with ten billion dollars and he’ll go on to live the life he actually deserves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So far, that day hasn’t happened yet. But all good things come to those who wait, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s on a two-week streak as a vagabond when he runs into Elliot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s passing by this alley in downtown Sioux Falls when he hears screaming. But it’s not like a terrified “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please-help-I’m-being-murdered”</span>
  </em>
  <span> scream. It’s more of a: “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Die, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you stupid annoying </span>
  <em>
    <span>poop</span>
  </em>
  <span>head!” scream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, dear. This sounds like a headache just waiting to happen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So it’s with a begrudging, self-martyring sigh that Mateo backtracks to find the five-year-old in the alley, bludgeoning one of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>things, </span>
  </em>
  <span>as he’s begun to call them, with a baseball bat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s pretty much obliterated the thing by the time he arrives on the scene, so he stands on the sidelines and asks, “You need any help?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I got it,” she yells back. She bops the thing over the head again, and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>poofs </span>
  </em>
  <span>into a cloud of dust and then out of existence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Impressive,” he says. “You’re what, five?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Five and </span>
  <em>
    <span>three quarters</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she says with a roll of her eyes. Mateo loves this kid already. “I’m Elliot.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mateo,” he introduces himself. And they look at each other for a long moment, and then they share a solemn nod. After that, they go together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They don’t really have a destination in mind. Elliot tells him that she’s been on the run since two days ago, when her social worker took her to a new foster family. “Bad people,” is all she says, in a solemn voice that tells Mateo not to ask questions. He doesn’t want her coming after </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>with that baseball bat. They spend some time wandering through the city before catching a bus, and then they ride on to the next place. Elliot sleeps on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thinks that she’s like a blue-eyed, blonde-haired version of his littlest sister, and feels his heart stretching against his will. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, I’d die for her, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks with affection, and promptly feels annoyed with himself. But what can he say? He’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely </span>
  </em>
  <span>heartless. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss my Nintendo,” Mateo says forlornly. They’re sitting on a bench across from a GameStop, and while Elliot listens with the focused air of someone who actually cares about what he has to say, he tells her the whole tragic tale. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he’s finished, he turns to look at her and watches as a sudden, fierce determination fills her sky blue eyes. “I got this,” she tells him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gets up and goes into the GameStop, leaving Mateo to sit alone on the bench, wondering what she could possibly be doing. She comes back out some minutes later, with all of the calmness in the world, and smiles sweetly. “Let’s go,” she says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what did you do?” Mateo asks, but she’s already walking away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On their next bus, they sit in the very back row and she pulls out a new (well, pre-owned) red 3DS, </span>
  <em>
    <span>MarioKart 7, The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Animal Crossing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “That one’s for me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What—Elliot,” Mateo protests, “You can’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>steal </span>
  </em>
  <span>things because I say I want them.” Even though what he’s really thinking is: </span>
  <em>
    <span>how the hell did she smuggle all of this out of the store without being caught? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why not? I never get caught,” the girl says with a shrug, as casual as if she was telling him she doesn’t mind pepperoni on her pizza. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s something Mateo quickly learns for himself over the next few days. Elliot steals things—</span>
  <em>
    <span>all the time. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And she </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>gets caught. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo would like to say he has some sort of moral compass and feels kind of bad about it—except, well, actually, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They’re two homeless children with nowhere to go and no one to look after them but themselves. They have to do what they have to do. Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>he feel bad? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s beginning to realize that this is the life he’s going to be living probably for a long time. Elliot, too. He guesses, sometimes, that that’s just your luck. Some kids get everything in the world. And some kids have to learn how to steal from Wal-Mart checkout lines just so they’ll have something to eat at night. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He and Elliot are a pretty good team, Mateo thinks. There are two of them. Two is enough to fight off the hoards of monsters that try to steal their backpacks. Two is enough to slip under the radar of people who would probably call social services if they figured out they were homeless. Two is enough so that neither of them ever gets lonely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Really. Mateo cannot emphasize that enough. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Two is enough</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Man, I can’t believe we just almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>died.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>cyclopes</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You know what cyclopes are, right? Cyclopes are—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I know,” he says tiredly. Seriously, the headache never ends. “The things we just fought. One eye. Smells like my oldest brother Luis’s laundry hamper.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah . . .” the new girl frowns, evidently thinking very deeply about how terribly the monsters had smelled. Her eyes are bright purple, and it’s kind of creeping Mateo out. What normal person has </span>
  <em>
    <span>purple </span>
  </em>
  <span>eyes? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Be fair</span>
  </em>
  <span>, some internal voice scolds him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You aren’t normal either. For a lot more serious reasons than your eye color</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He presses his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose as he grudgingly accepts the obvious. He and Elliot seem to have picked up another stray. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re probably gonna have to go before people uh, start wondering about all of this,” the girl with purple eyes says. At </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she gestures at the destruction all around them. Collapsed buildings. Rocky dust everywhere. Mateo genuinely has no idea how this happened. He and Elliot were </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>trying to find a place to eat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a little while of more wandering—thankfully, without the appearance of one-eyed monsters for now—they do find a restaurant. Their newest member looks up at the sign, then through the windows skeptically. “You guys got any money?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it. Elliot’s got us covered,” Mateo says, and pushes open the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they sit down, their waitress gives them a dubious look. Mateo guesses they look kind of sketchy. “You kids ready to order drinks?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d like a glass of wine,” the new girl says with complete confidence, as if this lady is just going to bring an obvious ten-year-old an alcoholic beverage. She seems genuinely shocked when the waitress tells her, flatly, that she can’t serve alcohol to minors. Then she slumps in her seat and mutters, “Fine, I’ll have lemonade.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your parents let you drink wine?” Mateo wonders aloud, figuring he might as well </span>
  <em>
    <span>try </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be conversational. He wonders if her family is Catholic too. The only time Mateo’s ever had wine is during communion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl shrugs, nonchalantly flipping through the menu. “My grandparents own a vineyard and my mom named me Cava Rose</span>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>if that tells you anything. Everyone calls me Rose.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh right. Mateo had completely forgotten to ask for her name. “Mateo,” he says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Elliot,” Elliot introduces herself. She pushes her menu into Mateo’s space with a frown, points. “What’s this say?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Chicken fingers.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want that,” she announces importantly. “With fries.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They order, and then they wait. When their waitress—whose nametag, he notes then, reads </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lauren</span>
  </em>
  <span>—returns, she stares them down the whole time she’s setting their plates on the table, as if she’s expecting them to take the food and run. Mateo doesn’t blame her. He and Elliot </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>done that a couple times. But really, you have to admit that it’s kind of rude. What if their parents were billionaires and they just </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoyed </span>
  </em>
  <span>looking like dirty homeless kids? This is the most judgmental waitress Mateo has ever had the misfortune of being served by. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, how do you guys have money?” Rose asks between bites of her entree. “Are you trust fund kids or something?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo snorts. “Definitely not. Elliot stole some rich dude’s wallet on the bus.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rose lifts her eyebrows, impressed. The young blonde shrugs. “He was being a jerk. He kept yelling into his phone and made the lady sitting in front of him cry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What a jerk,” Rose agrees. The rest of their meal passes pleasantly. When they get up to leave, Mateo leaves a generous tip just to prove he can. He’s hoping it’ll cause Lauren to reevaluate her entire perspective on the world and realize how rude she’s been. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they leave, Rose goes with them. The thing is, she never </span>
  <em>
    <span>asks </span>
  </em>
  <span>if she can go with them, which Mateo should probably find annoying, but he thinks it would probably be rude of him to tell her she couldn’t. And yeah, she’s a little annoying herself—she talks </span>
  <em>
    <span>constantly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like she doesn’t ever even need to stop and breathe—but he can tell that Elliot likes her. He supposes it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>kind of nice, not having so much silence around them all the time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t realized how heavy everything felt until now, as Rose is talking about whatever and makes Elliot laugh. He’s never made her laugh before, he realizes with a pang. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe this won’t be so bad, he decides reluctantly. Maybe three’s an okay number, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p><span>“</span><em><span>Ay</span></em> <em><span>Dios, WHY?” </span></em><span>Mateo wails, as the giant demonic bird drops his and Elliot’s 3DS into a bubbling pool of acid. “</span><em><span>WHY </span></em><span>does the universe </span><em><span>HATE ME?” </span></em></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We kind of have bigger problems than your dumb technology!” Rose shouts, running past with the lead pipe she’d picked up in a random alley sometime that morning. (Mateo really, really hopes she’s had all of her vaccinations. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>last </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing he needs to deal with is her contracting tetanus on top of everything else.) </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No one asked for your opinion, Rose!” Mateo yells back, feeling deeply offended until another of the birdlike creatures swoops down to hack into his shoulder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ow. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It has the audacity to fly away before he can even get in a good stab with his knife. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Normally, Mateo doesn’t really worry when they run into these . . . things. They’re usually pretty easy to fight off. But there also normally aren’t this many, and he can tell that there’s no way they’re going to kill all of them with their limited resources. Elliot, as always, appears to be having the best luck: she keeps whacking the birds with her bat as if she’s truly playing a game of baseball, and every time she hits one, it goes flying into the hot spring beyond them. He would be extremely proud, if he wasn’t too busy worrying about what’s going to happen if she misses just one of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, worrying, that is, until the two guys with swords show up. And yeah, okay, Mateo can admit that they </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>look kind of cool. Especially the guy with the black sword. It looks like everything that hits it just turns into darkness. And Mateo thinks, after everything he’s been through over the past few weeks, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>allowed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to appreciate the way the guy who turns the monsters into darkness looks. He wonders how he can make his hair look so nice even with monster dust in it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, because this is Mateo’s life, and instead of being the protagonist of some young adult fantasy novel he’s, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself</span>
  </em>
  <span>—he has to exercise caution. Especially because Rose seems some weird kind of starstruck as she just </span>
  <em>
    <span>goes right up to them</span>
  </em>
  <span> and starts talking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can see them,” the one guy, the one with the nice hair, is saying when Mateo’s grabbed Elliot and rushed her over to make sure Rose isn’t about to be kidnapped. Mateo tries to ignore the sound of his voice and instead focus on what he’s actually saying—which honestly makes the guy sound a little insane, which unfortunately might be his downfall in Mateo’s book—but it is difficult when he sounds all confident without being arrogant, the way he keeps his voice soft enough that Elliot isn’t scared. (He’s not sure if that was really his main intention, but it’s nice all the same.) The guy has a nice voice. He feels extremely annoyed with himself for noticing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then Rose takes their side when Mateo is being cautious for </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>sake—well, all of theirs, but she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>included</span>
  </em>
  <span>—because these guys </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> turn out to actually be psychopathic murderers, and he forgets all about appreciating the attractive boy’s voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But </span>
  <em>
    <span>then </span>
  </em>
  <span>Elliot starts to cry. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course </span>
  </em>
  <span>Attractive Boy is good with little kids. This is the ultimate betrayal, he thinks, as he watches his sort-of-adopted little sister take to him in the same way Rose had. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s not jealous. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Definitely not</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He just feels something twist unpleasantly in his chest at the easy way this person, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>stranger</span>
  </em>
  <span>, holds </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>sort-of little sister. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then the other guy, who Mateo honestly hasn’t really given a second glance to, has the </span>
  <em>
    <span>nerve </span>
  </em>
  <span>to suggest that they all grab onto Nico. Which is just </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird</span>
  </em>
  <span> on so many levels, he thinks even as he’s distracted with filing the name </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nico</span>
  </em>
  <span> away in his brain, as Rose grabs his wrist and yanks him into their weird little cultish circle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’re you gonna do?” he demands to know. In his head, he’s contemplating a new theory: </span>
  <em>
    <span>what if these people are Satanists?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’s too young to be a human sacrifice. He hasn’t even graduated </span>
  <em>
    <span>middle school</span>
  </em>
  <span> yet. Why does his life totally </span>
  <em>
    <span>suck</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just hold on.” Nico looks at him when he says it, and Mateo’s heart thuds in his chest because it feels like his eyes are piercing into his </span>
  <em>
    <span>soul</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But he doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>look </span>
  </em>
  <span>like a Satan-worshipping child-sacrificer. Before he can make up his mind, though; before he can even really process the fact that Nico just </span>
  <em>
    <span>spoke</span>
  </em>
  <span> to him—with that smooth reassurance and annoyingly soothing confidence—they’re ripped into the shadows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s probably one of the weirdest experiences Mateo has ever had in his life, but he’s gotten pretty good at just being adaptable. So when he opens his eyes and suddenly they’re in a completely different place, he thinks: </span>
  <em>
    <span>wow, that’s really weird</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and then moves on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seems like whatever Nico just did, it took a lot of his energy. Mateo watches as he sinks down into the grass and the other guy—who he remembers Nico had called </span>
  <em>
    <span>Percy</span>
  </em>
  <span>—goes over to check on him. Elliot comes back over to him then, grabbing for his hand as she looks up at him. “Today is weird,” she tells him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he agrees. “Very weird.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all sit in the grass for a little while, and while Rose talks to Percy—who Mateo is slowly deciding he’s not a fan of, though he can’t pinpoint exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>; maybe it’s because his hair isn’t as nice as Nico’s, or that he only has s’mores flavored Pop-Tarts when those are </span>
  <em>
    <span>obviously </span>
  </em>
  <span>the worst kind—he thinks about what it means that these guys have found them. He thinks about where they’re going. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>According to Nico, they’re something called half-bloods, which Mateo would think sounds kind of racist if Nico didn’t mean they’re half </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Or goddess. Half-something divine blood apparently courses through their veins, and this is why they’re cursed with having to deal with technology-destroying monsters. Mateo hates to admit it, but he really </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>starting to sound like the protagonist in a young adult fantasy novel. But he’s also like a billion percent sure he doesn’t have the imagination to make something like this up, so he knows it’s probably not fiction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, Nico is probably right. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>means that thirteen years ago, one of his parents slept with someone who wasn’t his other parent. Which seems kind of hypocritical considering that means one of his parents had an affair thirteen years ago, and yet </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>they preached to him and all of his siblings that sex is some evil thing that only exists for procreational purposes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Mateo isn’t an expert by any means, but he’s pretty sure you don’t have an affair unless you just want to have sex. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, fine, Mateo’s having a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> bit of trouble actually believing any of this. Because first of all, it’s ridiculous. Greek mythology is like, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>believable of all the mythologies. There’s no way it could be real. It can’t be. No matter how confident Nico was when he was explaining it to them, no matter how logical he made it </span>
  <em>
    <span>sound</span>
  </em>
  <span>, there’s got to be some other explanation. He hates to say it, but Nico probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>crazy. No one can be </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>hot and also sane, he thinks. It wouldn't be fair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>And second of all, even though his parents are terrible people, he can’t imagine either of his parents cheating on the other. Mainly because </span><em><span>who </span></em><span>would ever want to have an affair with them, but also because of how </span><em><span>rigidly </span></em><span>they stick to their beliefs. They told him they would disown</span> <span>him if he didn’t make himself be what they wanted. That’s not the kind of belief that makes you break a holy vow of commitment—a commitment you make in the eyes of </span><em><span>God </span></em><span>and everybody—and then throw it away for some fling with a mythical deity. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo isn’t sure what it is in him that’s fighting so hard. In the end, he thinks, what does it </span>
  <em>
    <span>matter </span>
  </em>
  <span>if one of his parents is a pagan god? It’s not like he was really a good, devoutly prescribing Catholic boy anyway. At least this would explain, in part, why he is the way he is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it’s just—something about thinking that the whole time he was growing up, one of his parents wasn’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And he wonders if they had known. They must have, obviously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wonders if </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>is the real reason why they hate him, and that hurts a lot to think. More than it should. It’s so unfair that he’s cut them out of his life and they can </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>make him feel like this. What gives them the right? What sort of sense does </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>of this make? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he keeps thinking about it, turning these thoughts over and over in his head even after Nico wakes up and calls his zombie Uber to pick them up. And the thoughts are so uncomfortably heavy that he can’t even shrug them off long enough to be weirded out by the fact that on top of everything else, Nico found a zombie somewhere that knows how to drive. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Mateo takes one look at the hotel room’s significantly lacking number of beds and thinks: </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely not. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has boundaries. He has limits. There is </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>way he’s just going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>accept </span>
  </em>
  <span>that he and his two young friends, </span>
  <em>
    <span>girl </span>
  </em>
  <span>friends, have to share a room with two strange men with weapons that they don’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He doesn’t care how attractive one of them may or may not be. He’s not an </span>
  <em>
    <span>idiot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, he pretends to be calm. And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>like to lay down for a minute; sitting in a car all day has </span>
  <em>
    <span>killed </span>
  </em>
  <span>his back. He’s relieved when the girls follow after him, piling on top of him like a couple of puppies. Normally, he thinks he’d be annoyed or uncomfortable at the invasion of his space, but at least like this he knows where they are. It’s easier to keep an eye on them </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>be able to actually close his eyes for a minute.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he doesn’t sleep. He holds Elliot close to his chest, feels Rose digging her pointy elbow into his side, and stays awake. Watching the other bed, where the Percy guy keeps tossing and turning. Listening, trying to hear the sound of Nico’s breathing, because he can’t exactly lift his head and look without disturbing one of the girls. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then he hears him speak. “I know you’re awake, you know.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo tenses. His heart does this stupid, fluttery thing in his chest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid pretty boys</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The problem with pretty boys is that even when he can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>them, he still </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s impossible to ignore. “No you don’t,” he denies. “I’ll have you know I am definitely asleep right now. You’re actually just crazy, and this conversation is a figment of your deluded imagination.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Nico replies drily. “That’s definitely what’s happening.” In Mateo’s arms, Elliot shifts, mutters, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You can’t have my chicken fingers</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you evil fiend</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Mateo feels a small burst of pride. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fiend</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He taught her that word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You care very much for your friends,” Nico notes. “That’s good. Being a demigod can be incredibly dangerous when you’re that young. I’m glad you found them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re more than my friends,” Mateo tells him, and mentally reprimands himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why did you tell him that</span>
  </em>
  <span>? “They’re—like, they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They’re all I have, now.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just shut up Mateo, stop talking, you sound so incredibly lame. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nico doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he says, “I have a little sister in California. Her name is Hazel.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo doesn’t know where this is going. “Good for you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s the only blood family I have. But I have a friend, Reyna, who I consider to be my sister, too, and I love her just as much. Sometimes, you have to create your own family. Whether they’re related to you by blood or not doesn’t matter. That’s true for everyone—demigod or not.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo thinks about that for a long time. Then he says, “It’s like . . . starting from scratch. My family—they’re. They’re not my family anymore. I can never go home. I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>a home now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nico says, quietly, “I’m sorry.” The thing is, he really sounds like he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Like it really matters to him that it bothers Mateo. Not that he’ll ever admit it bothers him. “I hope, then, that Camp Half-Blood can be your new home. I didn’t have a home for a long time, before I decided to stay at camp. It’s really hard, isn’t it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo closes his eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, is what he wants to say, but what ends up coming out of his mouth is a whispered, “Yeah. Really hard.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get some sleep, Mateo,” Nico tells him after another long period of silence has passed. Mateo wants to ask him how he even knows Mateo </span>
  <em>
    <span>hasn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>fallen asleep, but he doesn’t. He says nothing, and Nico says, “You don’t have to keep watch. I’ll make sure nothing happens. You deserve some rest.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo ponders that for a long time. He ponders it until, eventually, he dozes off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wakes up again when he hears a door sliding open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peering over Elliot’s blonde head, Mateo can just make out Nico’s and Percy’s forms creeping out onto the balcony. The door slides shut again behind them, and he can vaguely hear their muffled voices through the glass. He narrows his eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That definitely shows how concerned Percy is about monsters attacking</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels annoyed. Aren’t they supposed to be protecting him and his friends while they sleep? Should they not be keeping vigil right now, eyes peeled and weapons at the ready for a flock of . . . somethings to burst into the room? What if a cyclops broke down their door right now? </span>
  <em>
    <span>What then? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo blames Percy. There’s no way Nico would just up and leave them on their own without </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>coercion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stay out there for</span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span>. When the door finally begins to slide open again, Mateo shuts his eyes and feigns sleep, listening to the sound of their hushed voices and rustling movements until they both go silent. When he opens his eyes, he sees that both Percy </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nico have settled into the other bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo’s no expert at how keeping watch works, but he’s fairly certain that when the person who </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>keeping watch goes off-duty, the one who had been resting is supposed to wake up and take over. Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>go back to sleep</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is unbelievable. Mateo cannot believe this. If he was a parent hiring these two to babysit, he would give them a scalding one-star review on Yelp. No, lower than that. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>zero-star review. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So for the rest of the night, Mateo cultivates his malicious plan. Bright and early in the morning, he attempts to unearth himself from the two girls who have made him their pseudo-teddy bear. Unsuccessfully, as they stir the moment he shifts a mere two inches into a sitting position. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Rose whispers loudly. Elliot grumbles and rolls on top of him. Mateo gently rolls her back to the side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be right back. Rose, keep watch. Scream if Percy makes any weird and sudden movements.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rose frowns contemplatively. “What about Nico?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nico is an angel. He’d never do anything weird,” Mateo answers. He crawls off the bed and makes his way for the door, then halts abruptly. Turns back to Elliot and asks, “Do you have any quarters?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two minutes later, Mateo returns from the ice machine at the end of the hall with a bag at the ready. And then he upends it all over Percy’s sleeping face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’ll show him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Was that necessary?” the older of their two saviors sputters, not looking any sort of heroic as he tries to scrub the crushed ice from his hair and scowls. Mateo matches his expression with a cool, unaffected one of his own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We could have been attacked by monsters in the night,” he repeats Percy’s excuse from the night before in a perfect imitation of his voice. He can actually see the last of Percy’s hope for humanity dying in that moment, and it fills him with a profound satisfaction that has no equal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or so he thinks, until he hears Nico snort in amusement at his response. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>appreciates the effort Mateo puts into being vengeful, at least. As someone should. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a strangely good feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Mateo is not going to fit in at Camp Half-Blood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>That’s obvious from the very moment they get to camp and the half-horse man, who is apparently the </span><em><span>activity</span></em> <em><span>director </span></em><span>of this place, comes to greet them. Nico passed out within like two seconds of being here, and then Percy went and abandoned them, leaving Mateo feeling uncomfortable and out of place while everyone around him acts like everything is </span><em><span>normal</span></em><span>. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At least the food is good. He sits between Elliot and Rose at what Chiron calls the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hermes table</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and enjoys eating for once something that doesn’t taste like it came from a restaurant’s kitchen. He can’t remember the last time he had a decent-tasting salad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rose thinks the magic goblets are cool, until she requests wine in typical Rose-fashion and all she gets is unfermented grape juice. “Sorry, kid,” a girl named Alice tells her with an amused grin that sets Mateo on edge. “No alcohol allowed at camp. You must be Mr. D’s kid, huh?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. who?” Rose furrows her brows curiously. Alice points to the head table, where some man in an egregious tropical-printed shirt is sitting with Chiron. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s the god of wine. He’s the one who sent Nico to find you guys.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, so . . .” Rose follows Alice’s gaze, then blinks in incomprehension. “That’s my dad?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice shrugs, and spears a grape tomato on her fork. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a look of new determination settling onto Rose’s face, she gets up from the table. Mateo and everyone else at their table watch as she goes up to the dude in the Hawaiian shirt, taps him on the shoulder, and asks him something that they obviously can’t hear, being so far away. The guy looks at her without any sort of emotion for a few moments, and then he snaps his fingers. Over Rose’s head, a glowing grapevine appears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that’s when it hits Mateo. “That guy is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” he says, incredulous. There’s no way. He hadn’t even been sold on the Greek-gods-are-real theory before, but if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been, he would’ve expected the gods to look more . . . </span>
  <em>
    <span>godly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Impressive. This guy just looks like a recovering alcoholic with no sense of decent fashion whatsoever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The guy Cecil raises a curious eyebrow at him from across the table. “That is the general idea. Mr. D is a god. Our dad, Hermes, is a god. My boyfriend’s dad is a god. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your </span>
  </em>
  <span>dad—or mom—is a god.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or goddess,” Alice interjects. But Mateo’s hearing seems to have developed a sudden, strange ringing quality. He’s gotten stuck on the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>my boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly he feels very, very confused, and very, very small. He decides that he does not like feeling this way. He’d like for it to stop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But as the first night goes on, it only gets worse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rose is claimed by Mr. D—Dionysus, the god of wine—to no one’s surprise. And then later, when everyone’s moved on from dinner to the nightly bonfire—which sounds like a horribly cultish activity but then turns out to just be a typical, terrible summer camp bonfire—Elliot is claimed by Hermes. Cecil and Alice’s dad. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Guess that explains the thievery</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Mateo thinks, and tries to find amusement in it. But he just feels . . . kind of sad. He’s realizing that things are going to be different now from how they were before. Elliot’s going to live in the Hermes cabin, and they’re going to be her family. Cecil is probably going to become her favorite big brother, and she’s going to forget all about the time they spent together fighting monsters and playing </span>
  <em>
    <span>Animal Crossing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And Rose hasn’t left her dad’s side since she figured out he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>her dad, and Mateo is all alone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just like always</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wonders if it’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be that way. If he’s always meant to feel like an outsider, even in a place where Nico and Percy both proclaimed that all demigods fit in. Maybe there’s just something wrong with him, specifically. He can pretend it’s everyone else all he wants to, but in the end, there’s only one common variable here, isn’t there? And it’s him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then Percy begins to come over, and for a moment it just makes Mateo feel even worse. “What do you want now?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just to check up on you.” It’s infuriating, the way Percy doesn’t even make it sound like a big deal. Like it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal </span>
  </em>
  <span>to want to check on him. Like anyone would. Even after the way Mateo’s acted towards him. “You do know that I’m not your enemy here, right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shouldn’t you be? </span>
  </em>
  <span>The thing is, Mateo </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> really mind Percy. He thinks that he’s probably a good guy, if Nico can stand to hang around with him. Still, he doesn’t know him, and Percy doesn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and that means that he doesn’t have to care. And he doesn’t have to check on Mateo and try to make him feel better. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of course, that Mateo feels bad in any way. Of course not. Things are just—a little overwhelming. Nothing makes any </span>
  <em>
    <span>sense</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy tells him, “You’ll figure it out. Part of being a demigod is learning to accept that some things just never make sense, and learning to make sense of them anyway.” And Mateo doesn’t like that very much. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>doesn’t make any sense either. Honestly, it sounds kind of dumb. It shouldn’t make him feel better. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So why does it? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy is annoying, Mateo thinks. He’s annoying because he’s nice. He’s annoying because Mateo is pretty sure he’s unlike anyone else he’s ever met in his life, and that means he can’t figure him out easily. He’s just—</span>
  <em>
    <span>annoying</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he sits with Mateo for the rest of the night, when instead he could be anywhere else, in much better company. And as much as Mateo doesn’t want to admit it, that <em>means</em> something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s not going to apologize. Apologies aren't really a thing he does. But, he decides, he won’t be dumping any more bags of ice on Percy’s head anytime soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“The eyeliner won’t come off,” Mateo bemoans, scrubbing and </span>
  <em>
    <span>scrubbing </span>
  </em>
  <span>at his face, but the perfectly even wings don’t budge or smear at all. The skin around them hasn’t even gotten red and puffy yet. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why won’t the eyeliner come off</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Magical Aphrodite blessing,” Lacey tells him. “Enjoy it. Your eyeliner’s never gonna be that perfect again. Trust me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The truth is, Mateo’s never worn eyeliner before. And honestly? He looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>fantastic</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Still, all he can think about is how if he were home, his parents would </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Boys don’t wear makeup, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he can practically hear his mother’s—or, not his mother’s?—acidic voice in his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not normal boys. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He kind of wants to cry. He hates that when he looks in the mirror, he can see it in his face. And Lacey—his new </span>
  <em>
    <span>sister</span>
  </em>
  <span>—can see it too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” she says, eyes softening as she steps into the bathroom to place a hand on his shoulder. Mateo shrugs her off immediately, but she doesn’t appear to be fazed. “I know it can be overwhelming. Look, you don’t have to deal with this all right now. Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sleep</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A little while later, Mateo finds himself laying in a bed that’s apparently </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>now, in this horrendous dollhouse of a cabin, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if he’ll ever be able to sleep again. He isn’t even a little bit tired. His brain feels like it’s running a marathon that is also an obstacle course, jumping through hoops. He can’t slow down. He doesn’t know what to </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mother is not his mother. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Aphrodite</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the goddess of love, is his mother. He thinks there’s some terrible irony in this, because most of the time, Mateo is pretty sure that he doesn’t even know what love </span>
  <em>
    <span>means</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s beginning to think that he doesn’t know what a lot of things mean. He’s beginning to wonder if everything he’s ever been told is a lie. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it weird?” Mateo asks one day, sitting by the lake with his feet dangling over the dock. Rose is swimming in lazy circles below him. “Seeing your dad every day, after never even meeting him before.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” Rose tilts her head up at him as she thinks. “Not really. I mean, maybe at first. But he’s honestly not a bad guy. A little grumpy, but he’s not—mean. And he seems like he’s at least, y’know, a little bit sane. Not like my mom. Is it . . .” She frowns, and for a moment her purple eyes fill with an unfamiliar vulnerability. “Is it bad to say that? That she's . . . you know, not all there?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Mateo assures her. “It’s not bad. Honestly, I think </span>
  <em>
    <span>most </span>
  </em>
  <span>people in the world are insane.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The corners of Rose’s mouth flick up into an amused smile. “What about me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re one of the only sane people I’ve ever met in my life.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Rose seems to like that answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo nods. He smiles back. “Definitely.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Mateo walks into the Aphrodite cabin to find Lacey on her bed, shirtless, making out with some girl with purple hair that Mateo has seen around camp maybe twice in the two weeks he’s been here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” He averts his eyes, feels his face beginning to burn. “Oh my—um. Sorry. I’ll just . . . go then.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walks back out and takes a walk around camp. When he comes back, the purple-haired girl is gone, and Lacey is sitting cross-legged like she’s been waiting for him. Mitchell is there too, holding what looks to be a stack of pamphlets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” she says when he enters, as if nothing had happened. She gestures to the bed across from her. “Can we talk for a minute?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh gods,” Mateo says, not even paying attention to the easy way </span>
  <em>
    <span>gods </span>
  </em>
  <span>rolls off his tongue. “This isn’t a sex talk, is it? I can assure you, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t need one of those. Sixth-grade health class was traumatizing enough.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a sex talk,” Lacey says, and again, she gestures. “Please?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, Mateo takes a seat. Lacey smiles reassuringly, and he tries to prepare himself for the unexpected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you know who that girl was, earlier?” she begins, and Mateo thinks: </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, no. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can’t meet her eyes. “I don’t know. Isn’t her name like, Lucy or something?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lou Ellen,” she corrects. “She’s my girlfriend.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo feels like he’s holding his breath. Lacey is watching him, waiting for his reaction. When one doesn’t come, she ventures, “Does that seem weird to you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo shrugs. He still can’t look at her. “I don’t care,” he says, hoping he sounds convincing. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants </span>
  </em>
  <span>to sound convincing. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants </span>
  </em>
  <span>to not care. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lacey nods, but not like she really believes him. More like he’s just confirmed something for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and just looks at him for a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay if it is weird, right now. People come to camp from all different backgrounds, and sometimes it can be a shock to see two girls in love, or two boys in love. I thought it was important to make that clear because of . . . well, what you saw earlier. If you have any questions, I want you to know that it’s okay to ask them, to me or Mitchell. I want you to know that it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay </span>
  </em>
  <span>to ask questions. It’s good.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo stares at a poster of some K-pop band over Lacey’s shoulder, and he tells himself that he isn’t going to ask. And then he does ask, proving that he’s a traitorous liar. “So—</span>
  <em>
    <span>no one </span>
  </em>
  <span>cares? Like, you guys just . . . just do</span>
  <em>
    <span> that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and you go out and stuff, and no one says anything?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lacey tilts her head as she thinks. Says, “Well, it’s not that </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>one cares. There are always going to be people in the world who have certain ideas about what’s right and what isn’t when it comes to love. But here at camp? Yeah, no one really minds. We all try to be accepting of each other, because . . . well. In some way or another, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>know what it’s like to feel different, or like we don’t belong. But Camp Half-Blood is supposed to be a place for everyone. We do all that we can to make sure it is.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo thinks about that. He thinks it sounds nice, in theory. He thinks it’s harder to believe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing is that simple</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But he finds himself wishing, with an intensity that almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>burns, </span>
  </em>
  <span>that he did believe it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lacey must see something in the look on his face. That’s the annoying thing about the Aphrodite kids, he’s finding. They are </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupidly </span>
  </em>
  <span>good at reading emotions. “Just think about it,” she says gently, and he wants to be annoyed. He doesn’t need to be handled like a skittish baby animal. But the thing is, he kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>feels </span>
  </em>
  <span>like a skittish baby animal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mitchell reaches forward to press his stack of pamphlets into Mateo’s hands. “We print these out for all the new campers. A lot of them say they help. You can read them if you want. Or, you know, you don’t have to. Lacey’s right—you can ask us anything.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo eyes them dubiously. He scans some of the headers and decides, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah, no. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“There’s no way I’m going to read these.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mitchell shrugs, smiles easily. “Well, you know. Just in case you change your mind.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo could tell him that he’s definitely not going to change his mind, but instead he just takes them. He knows they’re just trying to be helpful. “Thanks.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both smile at him, and Mateo remembers what Nico had said, about how sometimes you have to create your own family. Rose and Elliot are his family. But, he thinks, and smiles back at his two half-blood siblings, he thinks he has a little extra room in his heart for two more. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Nico teaches one of the sword-fighting classes, and Mateo absolutely refuses to attend it as a student because he refuses to let Nico see him make a fool of himself with a weapon that the older demigod is a literal master of. However, that does not mean he can’t come to his classes to observe while he teaches Elliot. You know, just to keep an eye on her. He can’t let her accidentally maim herself while Nico is trying to correct one of other incompetent brats he calls students. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If he finds himself watching Nico more than his young friend, well, that’s no one’s business but his. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An unfortunate downside of shadowing Nico’s lessons is that Mateo learns that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Percy </span>
  </em>
  <span>also lurks around wherever the other demigod happens to be. Sometimes he even helps with the lessons, showing off with annoyingly impressive fighting moves that Mateo feels are just </span>
  <em>
    <span>requests </span>
  </em>
  <span>to have someone punch him in the face for being too perfect. And while it’s true that Mateo is trying to quell his urges to enact violence on the son of Poseidon, Percy really isn’t doing himself any favors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Especially because it only takes about two lessons in total to realize something that Mateo hadn’t seen on their road-trip here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nico is in love with the dude. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely </span>
  </em>
  <span>easy to see, when you know what to look for. And maybe it’s just because of the whole thing with Lacey and Mitchell the other day, or the way Cecil Markowitz had said </span>
  <em>
    <span>my boyfriend </span>
  </em>
  <span>so easily on the night Mateo first got here, or the fact that he’s has actually brought himself to open a couple of Mitchell’s pamphlets (out of simple curiosity and when no one else was in the cabin, obviously), but the whole love thing has been on Mateo’s brain for the past few days. Or maybe it’s some side-effect of being the son of a love goddess, like his smudge-proof, water-proof, will-proof eyeliner. Who knows? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anyway, whenever Percy walks into the room, Nico’s eyes always immediately look up and find him. Whenever Nico isn’t specifically teaching, his gaze drifts to the son of the sea god. He smiles every time Percy speaks to him. He smiles when Percy </span>
  <em>
    <span>looks </span>
  </em>
  <span>at him. One afternoon, Percy walks over to hand Nico a water bottle, and when their hands brush, the soppy look Nico gives him is almost enough to make Mateo puke all over the kid sitting next to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s disgusting,” the dude agrees when he sees what Mateo’s attention is fixed on. He has pretty cool cornrows—they’re shaped like DNA spirals or whatever they’re called. “Literally everyone in camp has placed bets on them. The thing is Nico hasn’t dated anyone in three years, and Percy just got out of this super long relationship back in January, so we know it’s probably going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever </span>
  </em>
  <span>before they do anything about it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo tilts his head, looking down into the arena contemplatively. “Yeah, I can see that,” he agrees. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The guy beside him flashes a bright white smile. “I’m Austin. You’re the new Aphrodite kid, right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mateo,” Mateo introduces. “Whose kid are you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Apollo’s,” Austin tells him. Then he says, “The reason why I’m here is because my little sister is taking this class, and after we’re going to go shoot some arrows in the archery fields. You want to come?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo thinks about that for a moment. He wonders if he could rope Elliot into joining them. “Yeah, alright.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cool.” Austin flashes another smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cool.” Mateo smiles back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo’s no expert on people, but he’s pretty sure he’s just made his first official friend at camp who isn't related to him by blood or choice. He thinks that’s pretty cool, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s early one summer morning when Mateo finds himself frowning in the mirror after his shower. It’s not that there’s anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong, </span>
  </em>
  <span>exactly. He looks as perfect as always. But there’s something that’s just . . . missing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Thinks: </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s okay to like the things you like. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His parents can’t tell him what he should or shouldn’t do anymore. They don’t have any say in who Mateo gets to be. That’s for him, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, to say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he nods at himself, smooths his hair into immaculateness, and steps out of the bathroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His brother Mitchell is standing in front of one of the many mirrors in their cabin—whose interior is beginning to grow on him, Mateo has to admit—applying his liquid eyeliner with a steady, practiced hand. Mateo walks over to him, stepping effortlessly around piles of clothes and shoes until his form joins Mitchell’s in the mirror. Mitchell glances at him in the glass without losing focus. “Morning, Mateo,” he says. When Mateo says nothing, he lifts one eyebrow, curious. “Everything alright?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you show me how?” Mateo asks quietly. He hates how his heart beats so fast, how he feels so </span>
  <em>
    <span>nervous</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>eyeliner. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The ancient Egyptians wore it all the time, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks to himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re being overdramatic</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thinks Mitchell might be a little bit surprised, but he’s glad that he can’t see any of it on the older boy’s face. “Of course,” he says easily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Five minutes later, Mateo has a fresh set of cat eyes. And Lacey may have been right—they don’t look </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite </span>
  </em>
  <span>as perfect as the ones his mother had bestowed on him when she acknowledged his existence. But when he looks into the mirror, he finds that finally, everything is beginning to feel exactly the way it should be. And he doesn't feel sorry about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Mateo takes a deep breath. And then he takes another. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, Mateo. You can do this. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s decided that there’s only one way to fully accept his new life as himself. No longer is he the boy who always felt like he had something to apologize for; no longer is he the homeless, dreamless kid who never believed anyone would really accept him. He’s becoming someone new, someone he’d never really believed he’d be </span>
  <em>
    <span>allowed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be, and it’s good. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>great</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He thinks that for the first time in a long time, he’s sort of . . . really happy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t want to tell any more lies, though. And he doesn’t want to pretend that he doesn’t feel the way he feels. He thinks if he can’t admit that, then he can never really be everything that he wants. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But telling himself this doesn’t make the nerves in his stomach go away. He feels like he’s going to throw up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe you can do this tomorrow. Or next week. Or never</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s with that thought, though, that Mateo forces himself to get with his brain’s newly formulated plan. And he moves his feet forward, walking forward and forward until he’s right in front of Nico di Angelo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s after one of his sword-fighting lessons, and he’s by himself, cleaning up the arena. It’s weird to see the arena so empty, because Mateo always pictures it in his head as crawling with children at all hours of the day. That’s sort of the perfect picture to describe what Camp Half-Blood is, he finds himself thinking distractedly. And then he shakes his head, snapping himself into the present. Ignoring the fluttery stupidity party that’s going on in his intestines. And forces out, “Hey, Nico? Can I talk to you for a minute?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nico looks up from where he’s collecting the practice swords, seeming surprised to find him there. And then he smiles, nods easily. “Yeah, sure. Just let me put these up first.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They take a walk. Back toward the cabins, since that’s where they’re both headed anyway, but it’s all the way across the valley so it gives them a little time. Enough time, Mateo hopes, for him to say everything he needs to say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” Nico asks him. The slight breeze is tousling his hair into these little waves, rippling against his forehead. “Are you settling into camp okay?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Mateo blinks. “Oh—yeah, everything is great. I have a bunch of new siblings since the summer officially started, and it’s hard to learn their names, but—it’s all good. I like most of them. I mean, I guess.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Nico glances at him, lips quirking knowingly. “I’m glad to hear it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They walk in silence for a few moments, until Mateo gathers his nerves enough to speak. “Listen, I—I have something I need to tell you. I mean, it’s more important for me than for you, but I wanted you to know because it . . . well, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>important for me. I’ve been realizing a lot of stuff lately. It’s been kind of crazy. And annoying.” Mateo realizes he’s rambling, and forces himself to stop. Take a breath. He can feel Nico’s eyes on him, knows that he has his full attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I . . . I really like you,” Mateo confesses. “Like, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>cool. And, and kind of . . . </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>hot. It’s really unfair, by the way. And I didn’t want to think it, because my—my parents, they always told me it was wrong to feel the way I did about . . . y’know, other boys, I guess. But then you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice </span>
  </em>
  <span>to me, and you told me those things you did about finding your family or whatever, and it just—it meant a lot. And Lacey said, well, she has a girlfriend. And people at Camp Half-Blood seem to have all kind of relationships, but everyone is </span>
  <em>
    <span>themselves</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and I just thought, I want to be like that too. I want to be myself. So I needed you to know that I have a crush on you. That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels breathless at the end of it all, like he’s just finished an intense sprinting session. And Nico is quiet for a really long time. Finally, Mateo’s curiosity gets the best of him, and he looks over to find Nico looking up at the sky, thoughtful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh . . . can you say something?” Mateo asks, still feeling that odd fluttering. He has to admit, he was expecting more of a—reaction. Any kind of reaction, really. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally he gets it, when Nico turns his eyes from the sky to Mateo. He looks oddly serious, his eyes as dark as a starless night, filled with meaning that Mateo thinks isn’t meant for him to understand. He never could, even if he tried. “That takes guts,” Nico says, and there’s a sort of undertone to his voice that Mateo thinks is . . . proud? Of him? “I know how hard it is to do that. The first time I did, it was sort of . . . well, it was forced out of me. Long story. But the first time I </span>
  <em>
    <span>chose </span>
  </em>
  <span>to tell someone—my crush specifically—was a different kind of hard. It sort of felt like I was going to puke. You know that nervous feeling?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mateo says, emphatic. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>do.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It makes Nico laugh. It makes Mateo’s heart do a flip. “Yeah. Well, anyway, I’m proud of you. Thank you for telling me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. I mean, it was—no problem. You’re welcome.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nico laughs again. The thing about Nico is, you never feel like he’s laughing </span>
  <em>
    <span>at </span>
  </em>
  <span>you. He’s so nice. It makes Mateo feel so stupidly fuzzy sometimes. But in a good way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who was it?” Mateo can’t help but ask, curious as they near the cabins. “The person you had a crush on.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s still a small trace of a smile on Nico’s face. “Ah, actually, it was Percy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That stops Mateo in his tracks. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised. Still—“Percy?” he demands. “You could’ve had a crush on anyone, and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>Percy</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’s so . . . so </span>
  <em>
    <span>annoying</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nico’s lips quirk, like he’s holding back another laugh. “He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He has his moments, sure, but don’t we all? Percy is a good person. He’s a loyal friend. And, well, he’s handsome too. It was easy to like him.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo makes a face. “‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Handsome’?</span>
  </em>
  <span> What were you born in, the fifties?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The twenties, actually,” Nico says. Mateo waits for Nico to crack another joking smile, but it never comes. That’s when he realizes it’s better to just not ask, sometimes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he really </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>help himself, because he has to know. “Do you still like him?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Nico denies. Still, Mateo catches the brief nanosecond of hesitation, the flash in his eyes when they catch the light. And he can just </span>
  <em>
    <span>sense </span>
  </em>
  <span>that Nico isn’t telling the truth. Whether that’s to Mateo or himself, though, he isn’t sure. “That was a very, very long time ago. Percy and I are good friends—but that’s all.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’ve reached the Aphrodite cabin by now, and it’s with another smile and a promise to see him later at the bonfire that Nico continues on to his own cabin. Mateo watches him go, and as he does he feels a headache coming on. Because Mateo is realizing, with growing displeasure, what he has to do now. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, you’re a real idiot.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mateo feels a vindictive sort of satisfaction at saying it right to Percy’s face, but it’s underscored by the acknowledgment that Percy doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>deserve it. He deserves to be happy just as much as Nico does. And the thing is, Percy seems like someone who’s been kind of sad lately. Really sad. And he thinks that Nico makes him happy. And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>that Percy makes Nico happy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he tells him. Maybe it’s sort of wrong of him to do that, but like Austin said: if these two are left to their own devices, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to happen. Sometimes, it takes someone from the outside pushing two people toward each other. He only hopes that it doesn’t backfire. (Though he’s pretty confident it won’t; otherwise, he wouldn’t be doing it.) </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Percy, the idiot, says, “What are you talking about? Nico and I are friends. Good friends. But he doesn’t . . . feel like that. About me.” And Mateo honestly wants to scream, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>can two people be so completely stupid? Mateo hopes that he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>like this if he falls in love. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he changes tactics, because unfortunately, he thinks total honesty is the only thing that’s going to work. “Look, dude. I’m the child of a love goddess, which means that I’m obviously an expert now.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Obviously. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mateo thinks he’s probably more knowledgeable than everyone in this camp by now, and it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely not </span>
  </em>
  <span>due to Mitchell’s dumb pamphlets. Definitely not. “Every time Nico looks at you, he gets this super gooey look on his face that kind of makes me want to vomit. Trust me, I know—he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>looking at you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a little embarrassing to admit that to his crush’s future boyfriend, but, well, sometimes you just do what you have to do. And in the end, he thinks it works. He can see the moment it all clicks in Percy’s sea-green eyes. Mateo thinks, in that moment, that he can sort of see what Nico was getting at when he called him </span>
  <em>
    <span>handsome. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not that Mateo would ever admit it. Or use the word handsome to describe anyone in any context ever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a good feeling, he thinks, when he returns to his cabin later that afternoon. He feels like he’s done something good; he hopes. And his heart feels light, and warm, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy </span>
  </em>
  <span>when he walks into his cabin to find a group of his siblings sitting in a circle on the floor. Lacey looks up at him, a certain graveness in her eyes, and asks him, “Do you want to help us shred Cosmopolitan magazines? We plan on burning them at the bonfire tonight.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Mateo grins, making his way over to find a place between two of his siblings. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His siblings. Family. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He says, “There is </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>I would rather do right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the Fourth of July, and the late-evening summer air is scorching in a good way. Mateo is sitting with his siblings on the beach, listening to their gossip with his ears while his eyes watch Rose and Elliot, tumbling around after each other in the sand. Their laughter carries on the breeze and straight into his heart. He hates how sappy he’s gotten recently. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s their fault</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks, with absolutely zero acrimony. He doesn’t have the room within himself to feel anything but affectionate right now. There’s nothing wrong with that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finds himself thinking about how strange this summer has been. How he had lost one family, so wrapped up in bitter sadness and the knowledge that he would never belong that it drove him to run away from home—something that, in retrospect, was much more scary than he let himself acknowledge at the time. And then how he had found a new one, tangled up somewhere within monster-infested alleys and cross-country bus routes. It’s only kept growing since then, and the thing is, Mateo </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes </span>
  </em>
  <span>that. He likes that there are people like Lacey and Mitchell who he can talk to without fearing their judgment or condescension. He likes that there are people like Elliot and Rose, who burst with young energy and spill it over to him, reminding him that it’s okay to be young sometimes. He likes how he doesn’t feel like he has to </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretend</span>
  </em>
  <span> for anyone, and he likes how he feels happy more days than he feels sad, or regretful, or bitter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And yeah, some days are harder than others. Some days Mateo finds himself thinking about Rosalina with a heavy sort of regret, because he thinks she’s never going to understand why he left. He knows his family is definitely never going to tell her the truth. And he thinks about his parents, and wonders if there was anything more he could have done to make them love him. His head is full of </span>
  <em>
    <span>what if?</span>
  </em>
  <span>s sometimes. But that’s just life, he thinks. There are always going to be questions that he’ll never really get any answers for. And some days he just has to deal with the sadness and the regret, so that he can move on and let himself be happy and free. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sits and thinks about this, while all around him the soundtrack of summer goes on. And while he’s thinking his eyes find Nico and Percy, who seem to have created their own private atmosphere even with all of the loud and exuberant teenagers all around them. They’re standing in the surf, heads tilted into each other as Percy says something, as Nico’s laughter carries alongside the rush of a receding wave. And then Nico tilts his head up to press their lips together, and when it goes on long enough for Cecil to notice and begin an obnoxious series of wolf-whistles, Nico simply lifts the hand he’d had pressed to Percy’s shoulder to throw an obscene gesture in the Hermes boy’s direction. And then the beach fills with even more laughter than before, and Mateo just lays back to rest his head on his laced hands in the sand, staring up at the blue sky and feeling smug when he remembers that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>the reason why those two finally got their act together. (He also won the camp-wide bet concerning when they would finally make things official. The prize of his choice was a new Nintendo 3DS, smuggled in by the Hermes cabin and gifted to him personally by Elliot, who’d smiled sweetly at him without handing it over until he promised to let her play with it sometimes.) </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the sky grows dark, everyone begins to hush and make their way over to their claimed beach spots to get ready to watch the show. Elliot rambles over with Rose on her heels to collapse in the sand on either side of him, and Mateo smiles up at them. “The Hephaestus cabin said this is going to be the best fireworks show we’re ever going to see. You think they’re right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Elliot says with a shrug, and Rose rolls her eyes. “No </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Everyone knows the Hephaestus cabin is just a bunch of drama queens. It’s going to be like ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>ooh, look at me, I’m a centaur,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>or ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>ohh, how scary, I’m a cyclops.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Not so impressive once you’ve seen the real thing. But we should probably pretend anyway, just to be polite. You think I should scream in terror?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think that would probably be </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> polite,” Elliot says thoughtfully, while Mateo laughs. “Who needs polite?” he asks them both, right before the first firework goes off. They all look up then, watching as an explosion of color fills the night. It’s the first of many. And it’s true—they’re just fireworks. Not really all that amazing when you think about it. But Mateo gazes heavenward along with everyone else, and he lets himself enjoy the illusions that dance across the sky. He feels then like he’s really </span>
  <em>
    <span>part </span>
  </em>
  <span>of something, like there is nowhere in the world he could possibly belong besides right here, surrounded by his friends, the people who he’s close enough to now that he can confidently call them </span>
  <em>
    <span>family</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He thinks about how when he had first got here, he hadn’t been sure if he knew what love meant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thinks, as Elliot grows tired and crawls into his lap to spend the remainder of the show with her head against his chest, as Rose sits close enough that she can whisper her own personal commentary of the show into his ear, as he realizes how </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>these two girls have come to mean to him and how all of his new siblings and friends are becoming too, that he’s starting to learn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he thinks that now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, finally, after all this time, everything is exactly the way it should be. And it’s better than anything he ever could have hoped for. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
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